Full Moon Rising
by Ksorcere
Summary: RayK. Turnball has a very bad night.


Full Moon Rising  
  
  
  
Constable Turnbull ran down the street, his heart pounding frantically. He could feel the beast inside calling him – compelling him to do strange and unnatural things.  
  
"No!" he cried aloud. "I will not howl at the moon outside the Consulate! That would desecrate the dignity of the uniform."  
  
If only he had never stopped to pet that stray wolf four weeks ago, he thought. If only that wolf had not bitten him in the hand.  
  
"It wasn't my fault!" he whimpered to no one in particular. "I thought it was Diefenbaker."  
  
What to do? Where to go? Constable Fraser was out of town and no one at the Consulate seemed to know where he was.  
  
Turnbull stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He looked around and noticed that he was standing outside the apartment building of Fraser's partner, Detective Ray Vecchio. Perhaps Detective Vecchio could aid him.  
  
"Although," Turnbull mused as he entered the building. "I'm not entirely sure that he would be very helpful, but I must try. The future of Canada depends on it."  
  
A strange sense told him that Detective Vecchio lived on the third floor. After dithering for a few moments in the elevator, he decided to go with his feelings. A few minutes later, the doors opened and he stepped out. A strange yet familiar scent filled his nostrils. Guided by sharpening senses, he followed his nose to Apartment 3-D. He stopped in front of the door when realization hit. He had been tracking Detective Vecchio's scent.  
  
He shrugged, a bit unnerved, then put his ear to the door. He heard a shower running along with Detective Vecchio's slightly off-key rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody".  
  
He knocked on the door. No answer. Guided by a strange sense of urgency, he twisted the doorknob. To his surprise, the door opened. "How careless," he thought to himself as he entered. The apartment had a… lived- in appearance. Clothes were scattered on the floor and there were dirty dishes stacked on the coffee table. He noticed the turtle in his aquarium and waved to it.  
  
As he gently shut the door, he heard the Detective bellow, " 'So you think you can stop me and'… Damn it, I got soap in my eyes!"  
  
Turnbull located the door from whence all the yelling and cursing was emanating. Nervously, he knocked on the door. "Detective Vecchio?"  
  
"What the… Turnbull? What are you doing in my apartment? How did you get in? I locked the door!"  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, Turnbull, I'm sure," was the irritated response.  
  
"Oh. Well, in any case, the answer to your question is… well… I smelled you."  
  
"Smelled me? Who do you think you are, Fraser?"  
  
"No! No one can be Fraser. That is quite impossible."  
  
"Turnbull!"  
  
"Sorry, Detective. As I was saying, I smelled you when I arrived on the third floor and I just followed the scent."  
  
"Turnbull," the Detective sighed, sounding frustrated. "That doesn't explain how and why you're here."  
  
"It's Fraser."  
  
"What?" The shower was abruptly shut off. The door flew open, sending Turnbull back a few steps.  
  
Detective Vecchio stood in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his midsection and water dripping everywhere. "What's happened to Fraser?"  
  
"I don't know. I was hoping that you knew of his whereabouts."  
  
The detective glared. "You dragged me out of the shower to ask me if I knew where Fraser?" he demanded, his voice rising with every word.  
  
"Well, technically, I didn't drag…" Turnbull began.  
  
"SHUT UP!"  
  
The next thing Turnbull knew, he was sprawled out in the hallway. Though the door had been locked, he could hear the enraged detective's ranting. He picked himself up and decided to leave before the detective remembered to ask again how Turnbull had gotten into his apartment. The moment he left the building, however, a searing pain filled his body and he collapsed. His bones began to pop and he could feel his fingers lengthening.  
  
"Constable Turnbull! I was looking for you," a familiar voice called.  
  
He looked up to see the Inspector looming over him. "Inspector, I…" he grunted, trying to control his physical changes.  
  
"It's all right, Constable. I'm afraid this is all my fault."  
  
"Your… fault?"  
  
"Yes. I have a nasty habit of biting too deeply." 


End file.
